The Three Stages
by BooksAreLikeChocolateButBetter
Summary: Friday was the best day. Fridays involved drinking coffee in their local coffee shop, drinking alcohol(and occasionally having dinner)at their local bar and then going back to Alfred's for a fierce love-making session. The relationship was purely sexual and Alfred was okay with this. Well at least he thought he was until he began to fall in love, with Arthur Kirkland. Oh God. UKUS.
1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Alfred F. Jones really loved Fridays. He loved them just as much as he loved his brother or fast food or even videogames. Fridays were, without a doubt, the highlight of Alfred's week; Friday was the only day of the week where he saw Arthur Kirkland.

It had started as something innocent. Well, as innocent as flirting in a bar and going back to his for some alcohol-fuelled sex could be, anyway. In the American's defence, they had originally met in one of those everyday cliché blossoming romance types of way; they had met in a coffee shop. Alfred had been seeking some relaxation from his totally stressful day of binge-watching Netflix (he was a college student and his timetable gave him the whole of Friday off) and playing XBOX with his dorky friends, so he decided to pay a visit to _Coffee on the Corner._ Coffee on the Corner was, without a doubt, the best coffee place in the town. Contrary to the shop's name, Coffee on the Corner was actually nestled between _Colin's Comics_ and _Musical_ _Melodies,_ Alfred supposed that they were trying to be ironic and the comical touch was not lost on him.

He supposed he loved the coffee shop for many reasons. The sound of the bell tinkling as he pushed the door open, the way the smell of coffee welcomed him as he entered, embracing him like an old friend. He loved the staff, the way they always served with a smile and never failed to ask him how he was as he ordered. He had gotten particularly close to a green-eyed brunette whose name tag read " _Elizaveta!"_ and who never failed to ask him about his love life with a suggestive wink and a gesture in the direction of the Brit by the bookshelf.

The décor was another reason he loved Coffee on the Corner. It was cosy and almost personal without being intrusive. In typical coffee shop style, the colour scheme was a light brown and almost all of the surfaces were made of wood. The walls were lined with quotes, but they were all different. You could pay three dollars to write a quote on the wall and, as long as it wasn't anything vulgar, they were not allowed to erase it. Alfred was always tempted to write something, but he never knew what he'd write and he didn't want to write something meaningless or something that he would regret. In truth, he was waiting for the right quote, the right time. He knew it would happen someday.

There were a variety of chairs in the coffee shop from stiff, dining chairs to cushiony armchairs. He tended to sit in one of the booths whilst Arthur perched in the seat directly opposite him in the same booth, a book was always perched in his lap as he pretended not to notice Alfred. Alfred didn't mind though. Sometimes, he would have bought a Marvel comic from Colin's shop and would sit in a peaceful silence as he read about superheroes and Arthur read about Wonderland or Ebenezer Scrooge.

As Alfred made his way to the shop, he found himself thinking about Arthur and the first time they had met and how it had completely changed his life in the best possible way…

* * *

 _It was February 1st and Alfred F. Jones was absolutely freezing. It had to have been one of the coldest days in New York Alfred had ever experienced. Thankfully, there was no snow. Snow just made everything difficult and Alfred really did not feel like trudging through the slush as he tried to grasp onto his dignity by not falling over. He was heading towards the location of his newest, and most brilliant, discovery: Coffee on the Corner. Mattie, his brother, had told him all about it a few weeks back and Alfred had decided to pay it a visit. Much to his surprise, Matthew had been right; the place was amazing and the coffee was delicious._

 _Alfred walked into the shop, the bell tinkling as he pushed the door open and he headed for the counter. He looked around the place to see, to his dismay, that it was utterly full. All of the tables were taken by shoppers escaping the bitter cold and Alfred internally wept at the thought of having to drink it outside, on the way home._

 _"Hello again Alfred," Elizaveta greeted and Alfred smiled, somewhat surprised that she remembered him._

 _"Hey Elizaveta, how are you?" Alfred leant on the counter, glancing hopefully around the room for an empty spot, somewhere to rest his weary feet._

 _"I'm good thanks, I can't complain," she beamed, grabbing a large mug from the shelf. "Let me guess, a large caramel latte, right?"_

 _Alfred's mouth gaped open; she had gotten his exact order. "Can you read minds or something? You remembered my name_ and _my order. You totally have some kind of mystical power." Alfred pulled out a five dollar bill from his pocket. "I'm just a mere mortal in your presence," Alfred jested as Elizaveta rolled her eyes and fixed his drink._

 _She finished with a flourish and Alfred felt his mouth water as she pushed the drink across the counter. "That'll be three dollars, please." Alfred gave her the five and told her to keep the change as a tip._

 _Elizaveta grinned and placed the remaining money in the tips jar. "If you're looking for somewhere to sit, there's a spare seat over at that table." Alfred followed Elizaveta's gaze to the far corner by the window where two, spacious cushioned chairs resided. A man, around Alfred's age he guessed, was sat in the booth, a book balanced in his lap. There was a table in-between the two chairs where the man's mug sat._

 _"Do you know the guy?" Alfred asked, curious as usual. He seemed nice enough, though he couldn't really see much from his position and, anyway, looks didn't define a personality. His mother had told him that enough times._

 _Elizaveta drummed her fingers on the table, considering. "Uh, not really. He tends to come in on every Friday but he hasn't been here recently. He told me he was visiting his family in England." At that, Alfred's eyebrows rose causing Elizaveta to giggle knowingly. "Yes, he's British and yes, he does have the gorgeous accent."_

 _Alfred bit his lip, should he go over there? He wasn't sure. He knew how intrusive it would seem and he could always just ask Elizaveta to make his drink one to take-away. In the end, the desire to stay warm won out and Alfred took his drink and said goodbye to Elizaveta._

 _"Good luck~" Alfred shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as he stood next to the table. "Uh, hey, I was just wondering if-," the man looked up sharply and Alfred questioned whether this had been a good idea after all. "Could I sit here?"_

 _The man hesitated before nodding curtly and returning to his book._

 _"Thanks!" Alfred grinned and slid into the booth, placing his drink on the table. Alfred glanced around the room, catching Elizaveta's eye and she winked at the two of them._ He's cute, _she mouthed and Alfred rolled her eyes. He was so_ not _interested._

 _Come to think of it though, the man didn't look so bad. He had blonde, messy hair that Alfred, for some reason, wanted to run his hands through. He had a small head and a small nose but a beautifully shaped jawline and shapely lips. Despite the previous glare, the man's eyes were very attractive; they were a startling green colour that reminded Alfred of being outdoors and camping in the forest. He almost reminded Alfred of home not that that made any sense given that the man was both British and a complete stranger._

 _Alfred cleared his throat, causing the man to startle. "So," he started, trying to ease the suffocating awkwardness, "do you come here often?"_

 _The man placed his bookmark at the top of his page, clearly annoyed by the fact that he could no longer read in peace and glared at Alfred once more. "If by 'here' you mean the coffee shop, then yes I do. I like to read here. It's peaceful, don't you think?"_

 _Alfred knew the question was rhetorical and so he took a long sip of his drink- God, it was delicious- and wished he hadn't have bothered asking. He placed his cup down. "I only just started coming here. My brother told me about this place and I just had to check it out! It's awesome."_

 _"How fascinating," the man said, folding his arms. Alfred got the feeling that he was being sarcastic and that maybe, just maybe, Alfred wasn't all that interesting._

 _"So, when did you move to New York? I'm guessing you're British, right?"_

"English," _the man stressed, sighing. "I'm English, not British. God, if I had a quid for every time somebody said that I'd be-,"_

 _"Totally screwed," Alfred said grinning. "A quid's not gonna get you anywhere in America. Now, if you had a dollar whenever someone said that, it'd be a different story."_

 _The man studied Alfred awhile, maybe he was trying to come up with some kind of sarcastic response. Alfred almost braced himself for some sort of insult. Instead, the Brit simply shrugged, and Alfred was sure there was a small smile on his face. "Quite so," he muttered, taking a sip of his drink._

 _Spurred on by this miniature sign of friendship, Alfred pointed at the Brit's book. "So, what are you reading?"_

 _The man flushed and placed the book into his bag. "It's just something my mother bought me, that's all," Alfred titled his head to the side and raised his eyebrows questioningly. Arthur sighed and shifted in his seat. "If you must know, it's Peter Pan, the classic by_ _J. M. Barrie."_

 _"I don't think that's childish at all," Alfred assured him, tracing circles on the table top. "I mean, I love the idea of Peter Pan, never growing-up and all that stuff. It's the greatest thought, right? Who wants to get older?"_

 _Arthur nodded. "Exactly! I was always insanely jealous of Peter as a child, I still am, he gets to stay in Neverland whilst we are all stuck fighting the inevitable war between aging and trying to live in the moment."_

 _Alfred shook his head, his cowlick bobbing as he moved. "You see that's the part that people always get wrong: we're not_ fighting _life, we're controlling it."_

 _They lapsed into a thoughtful silence then and Alfred wondered whether he'd ever see this man again. The chances were unlikely, given that he didn't even know the Brit's name._

 _"There's more to you than meets the eye, Alfred," the man said, grabbing his bag from under the table._

 _Alfred started, saddened by the fact that the man was leaving. "How do you know my name?"_

 _Arthur rolled his eyes and stood. "You and Elizaveta over there don't exactly have the quietest of voices. I'm certain that the whole shop overheard your somewhat entertaining exchange."_

 _Alfred just sat there, a blush rushing to his face. Had they spoken about the Brit? He couldn't remember though he didn't think so._

 _"I'm Arthur, by the way, and yes I do have the utterly gorgeous accent," Alfred glanced over at Elizaveta, silently cursing her for putting him in this awkward position. "And whilst I am cute," he gave Alfred an appraising look, roaming his eyes over the American's body appreciatively, "it seems that I am not the only one." He winked_ \- winked- _(though there was a slight blush on Arthur's face) and he sauntered out of the shop._

 _Alfred could only sit, slightly stunned and wondering what on Earth had just happened._

* * *

The bell sounded as Alfred eased the door open and made his way to the counter. He greeted Elizaveta and their latest employee Gilbert (who also happened to be one of Alfred's best friends), grabbed a caramel latte and headed to their spot by the window. Arthur was already the booth; his hands were wrapped protectively around his mug of what Alfred knew was tea and he was absentmindedly staring out the window.

Alfred sat across from him, sliding his drink onto the table. "Hey!"

Arthur turned to face Alfred and smiled. Alfred always told him that he should smile more, it suited him. "Hello Alfred. How have you been?"

"I've been great, thanks! How's the book coming along?" Arthur wrote for a living and he had informed Alfred that he was in the midst of a new one, one that was loosely based around them apparently. Alfred had felt so happy when he'd told him but also rather confused. Surely, only true love deserved to be made into a story so why did Arthur feel the need to write about them? Arthur had made it perfectly clear that they were operating under some sort of Friday friends-with-benefits type of thing and Alfred had been okay with that. Yet, somehow, it felt more serious than that, more meaningful. Neither one of them had seen anybody else since they had met and Alfred knew Arthur better than he knew anyone else. He just wasn't sure what this all _meant._ Arthur could be very confusing when he wanted to be.

"The book's coming along fine thanks," Arthur stated. He leant back against the booth, shifting his position. "What about you? How's college life? How's that psychology teacher of yours? Does he still hate you?" Alfred's psychology teacher, Professor Braginsky, not only hated him, he loathed the very ground the American walked upon. Alfred swore that the guy was crazy himself, he could not understand why he'd even gotten the job in the first place.

"Hate is an understatement," Alfred rolled his eyes, flicking at his mug. "He'd like to see my head on a pike, I swear to God."

It was Arthur's turn to roll his eyes. "I'm sure that's not quite true, Alfred. You do so love to exaggerate."

 _"Believe me it's not an exaggeration"_ Alfred mumbled, staring out of the window. He noticed, sadly, that Arthur's mug was empty meaning the Brit was going to leave in a minute.

"Hey, Arthur?"

"Yes, Alfred?"

"How long are we going to be doing this for?" Alfred bit his lip nervously as he waited for the Brit's answer, not sure that he actually wanted to hear it after all.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked and Alfred sighed internally. This was classic Arthur. You couldn't talk about anything serious without skirting around the edges first; he never wanted to get directly to the point. Alfred just guessed that certain emotions made him uncomfortable.

"I mean," Alfred thought about wording it indirectly but decided against it. "The whole sex-on-Fridays thing. You know, dating but not really? This whole friends-with-benefits thing we've got going on."

"Alfred!" Arthur hissed. His face had gone a bright red at some point during Alfred's outburst. He looked like a tomato. "Say it a bit louder, why don't you? I don't think the old lady at the nearest bus station heard you."

Alfred tried to look apologetic, but he really wasn't bothered. The only people he knew in here were Elizaveta and Gilbert and they totally knew everything, anyway. "I'm sorry but, seriously, Arthur, answer the question."

Arthur seemed exasperated. "I don't know, Alfred. I just don't know. Why, do you want to stop? We don't have to do this anymore if you don't want to."

How could Alfred explain that he _did_ want to but in a different way? That he no longer only felt lust for Arthur, but love. Arthur might not want to see him again, might not want them to be together anymore. Alfred didn't think he'd be able to cope if that happened. Like it or not, he _needed_ Arthur; he needed their Fridays.

"I do want to! I was just wondering whether you were, uh, planning on being in a proper relationship or something." Alfred wondered if that was too obvious, wondered whether Arthur heard the extra w _ith me_ at the end of that sentence.

Arthur sighed and shook his head, looking almost fondly at Alfred. "I don't think so. I mean, who would want me as a partner?"

 _I would._ Alfred shrugged his shoulders as he drank some more of his drink. He placed his cup on the table. "There's someone for everyone, Artie."

Arthur just raised an eyebrow and hummed dismissively. "Anyway," Arthur said, grabbing his bag from under the table and preparing to leave. "Are we still on for tonight?"

Despite his emotional turmoil, Alfred felt the familiar pang of excitement, the feeling that, before all of this newfound confusion, would have been there all day. "Yeah, of course we are. Same time, same place?" He asked.

"Yes, that'll be fine," Arthur said. "Your place or mine after?"

"I'm feeling my place. What about you?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes, your bed is much more comfortable." He winked, one of those _if you know what I mean_ winks.

Alfred felt that pang once more. "Alrighty then, I'll see you later."

Arthur smiled and nodded, taking that as his cue to walk out. Alfred caught Elizaveta looking at Alfred, a quizzical expression on his face. _Is everything okay?_ Alfred nodded and smiled, though he didn't exactly feel like smiling.

He was in love with Arthur Kirkland. Theirs was a relationship that was only supposed to be sexual, other than that, they were just friends. He just wasn't sure what to do next. He finished his drink, grabbed his bag and waved goodbye to Elizaveta and Gilbert who was, for some reason, balancing a spoon on his nose. The customers were counting how long he could keep it up. Alfred rolled his eyes and headed for the door but not before glancing at the quote wall. There was still a blank space reserved for Alfred, if only he had something to put there. He walked out, feeling emptier than ever.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, so this was one of those plot bunnies that just wouldn't go away!**

 **It's not going to be a very long fic, probably just three or four chapters, but there will be smut (just to warn ya'll)**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **~BooksAreLikeChocolateButBetter**


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

 _Alfred had found himself thinking about the stranger from the coffee shop all day. He had planned on spending the evening alone, maybe with a take-out pizza and with the XBOX but found that, for some reason, he just needed to go out. And this was how he came to be in a bar all by himself, trying to blend in and not look like a total loser at the same time._

 _He had finally found an empty booth and was nestled into the far corner; his bottle of beer looked lonely on the excessively large table. He wished that he had gotten that man-Arthur's- number or something. The man had seemed interesting and as of late, Alfred had found himself pining for something interesting and he longed for the company of somebody new. He could have started up a new friendship or, maybe, something more intense than that which he wouldn't have exactly minded either. Alfred sighed, accepting his lifelong fate as a bachelor and took another swig of his beer._

" _Well, if it isn't you again," spoke a familiar voice and Alfred found himself looking into those forest eyes once again. "Do you mind?" Arthur asked, gesturing to the seat, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "Only there's nowhere else to go…" His eyes travelled the room, probably clarifying the lack of seating space._

" _Sure!" Alfred beamed, happy to have company and even happier to find that it was the company of one Arthur Kirkland. Arthur smiled softly before settling into the cushioned seat opposite Alfred. "Hey, it's like we've swapped roles or something," when Arthur looked confused Alfred explained further, "you know, because I asked you for a seat earlier and now you're doing the same thing."_

" _Oh," Arthur said in understanding, "yes, I see what you mean. This is a rather peculiar situation. I hadn't expected to be seeing you again actually."_

 _Alfred noticed that everything about Arthur was shaped to an odd sort of perfection. He was almost like looking at a piece of art in a gallery for he was beautiful to look at but there was also a sense of meaning , of depth, behind his appearance- something you couldn't quite understand but still appreciate nonetheless. He wondered if everyone else thought that, if they looked at Arthur in the same way and he found himself hoping that they didn't, for it to be only Alfred who saw him in that sense. Alfred shook himself out of his reverie only to consider whether Arthur had spent the day thinking of him and, if so, was that a good thing?_

" _Uh, yeah, same here. I mean, I was just thinking about you and-," Arthur raised an eyebrow at this and Alfred rushed to correct himself, "not about_ you _specifically. I was thinking about that book from earlier, you know, Peter Pan, and that led me to- to think about…You."_ Wow good job there Al, _Alfred chastised himself,_ now you look like a total creep.

 _To Alfred's surprise, Arthur simply smiled and raised his glass to his lips, downing the contents. "Well," he said with a smirk, "I'm glad I left such a good impression."_

 _Alfred felt himself flush slightly. He picked up his bottle only to find it empty; he placed it back on the table with a sigh. "I'm all out," he said, noticing that Arthur's drink was also gone, "do you want me to get you another?"_

* * *

Alfred, in his typical style, was twenty minutes late. He knew that, whilst Arthur would be annoyed, he would wait for him to show up so Alfred wasn't all that bothered.

The night air was bitterly cold and he was relieved as he walked through the open door of the bar and scanned the room searching for the Arthur. Spotting the Brit, he settled into the seat opposite and smiled apologetically. "Sorry for being so late, I made a last-minute decision to shower before coming here and then I remembered that I needed to record something on TV and-,"

Arthur broke Alfred off with a chuckle. "Alfred, there's no need to apologise. I'm perfectly used to it by now."

For some reason, that made Alfred feel happy. That Arthur had " _perfectly_ gotten used" to Alfred's habits and traits said something about their relationship, something that had meaning and was significant. Alfred saw that Arthur had already ordered their drinks (he knew Alfred's favourite- Budweiser) and nodded his thanks as he sipped from his bottle.

"So," Alfred began, "how was the rest of your day?"

Arthur shrugged as he drank some more of his whisky. "It's been alright I suppose, the book's been a bloody nightmare to write though," Alfred raised an eyebrow asking a silent _how come?_ "I don't know, I think it's my characters," Arthur explained with a sigh. "I'm having trouble understanding how they _feel_ and I'm finding it particularly difficult to illustrate said feelings through their relationship."

Well, didn't that sound eerily close to Alfred's internal struggle? "I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually," he said, "I mean, you're pretty good with that sort of thing, right?"

"I'm okay at it," Arthur said slowly, his bright eyes narrowing as he studied Alfred's face, "are you sure you're alright? You're acting a little…Off." By that he meant that Alfred wasn't bouncing off the walls or revelling in his own obnoxiousness by teasing Arthur over his new knitted sweater (which, Alfred had to admit, was taking things a little too far) so clearly something was wrong. And, whilst Arthur's assumption was correct, Alfred wasn't quite ready to divulge his inner turmoil (it could totally end up stopping the sex that they were supposed to have and, if Alfred's feelings resulted in them separating, he'd rather they part on a good note) so he simply stretched his smile wider.

"What are you on about Arthur?" Alfred asked, fluttering his eyelashes innocently and feigning ignorance, "I'm great!"

"Okay," Arthur said. He hesitated before saying, "but if something was wrong, you'd tell me right?"

Alfred quelled the surge of guilt that rushed through him and he forced himself to look into Arthur's eyes as he spoke. "I promise I'd tell you." Arthur still looked dubious, his arms were folded and his bushy eyebrows were raised. Alfred seriously needed to derail the conversation before they got too deep. "I'm starving," he said, grabbing the bar's haphazardly-made menu from the table, "can we order some fries?"

* * *

" _What's your poison?" Alfred asked, nearly falling from his seat in a graceful attempt to escape the booth._

" _Scotch please," Arthur said with a chuckle. Alfred felt his face heat up at the fact that, not only was Arthur aware of Alfred's small crush on the Brit, he now knew that Alfred was a complete klutz too._ Great, _Alfred thought as he headed towards the bar,_ I have the sex appeal of a potato.

 _Not that he was thinking about sex, of course. That would be totally ridiculous and besides, apart from the odd slip-up, Alfred wasn't the type of guy who slept with total strangers. Even if they were totally gorgeous and had the sexiest accent imaginable. Alfred did have a slight kink for accents- especially smooth, British ones. Oh God, what was he doing? He needed to stop. He was not drunk enough to be having those kind of thoughts about someone he had only just met that day. He banished his thoughts of all things sexy from his mind and picked up his ordered drinks._

" _Is there a queue of some sort?" Arthur asked when Alfred placed the drinks on the table and slid into his seat._

" _Yeah, it's pretty busy and you're welcome," Alfred quipped, the corners of his mouth perking upwards as he smiled._

" _Sorry, that was terribly rude of me," Arthur said, surprising Alfred with how sincere he seemed, "I assure you I do actually possess manners."_

" _I'm sure you do."_

 _They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only movement coming from whenever Alfred drank and from Arthur who was drumming his fingers on the table. "So," Arthur said, breaking the silence, "have you lived here long?"_

 _Alfred started, surprised at being asked the question. Arthur didn't seem the type for small talk but Alfred was happy to indulge. "What, as in, New York?" Arthur nodded and Alfred thought for a moment. Jeez, how long_ had _it been? "I think it's been about five years. Yeah, that's right, five years. I moved with my family when I started high school," Alfred shuddered at the memory, "and you?"_

" _It's been about a year for me. I decided that, if I were to pursue a writing career, the best place to go would be the Big Apple. It made sense at the time, now though, I'm not too sure."_

 _Something in the Brit's tone made Alfred feel a sudden rush of sympathy towards Arthur and, for some reason; he just wanted to hug him. "Aw, how come?"_

" _Honestly?" He asked- Alfred knew he wasn't looking for an answer so he remained silent, "it's just so damn lonely. I miss England and my family, I miss having friends and going to parties."_

" _Really?" Alfred asked, incredulous, causing Arthur to look at him sharply. "You're lonely?" When Arthur nodded, Alfred rolled his eyes, slightly exasperatedly. "You're clearly not going to the right places. I mean, you would definitely get all the chicks, you know? All girls love a Brit."_

 _Arthur scoffed. "As much as I appreciate your belief that I have the ability to, as you so eloquently put it, 'get all of the chicks' I'll have you know that they're not really my type." Again, Alfred saw Arthur do that thing where his eyes scanned Alfred and Alfred felt as though an electric current was running throughout his body. "I'm gay," he stated, leaning back in his seat. His eyes dared Alfred for a response and his smile was smug._

" _Well then join the club," Alfred shrugged. "In all seriousness though, you really could pull whoever you liked. I mean, you have that weird aura of self-assurance which is totally sexy and you sound really intelligent because you talk so poshly and use long words all the time which is really cool and-," Alfred stopped then, suddenly realising how much of an idiot he sounded. "And yeah- there's not really much of an explanation for your loneliness. Just saying."_

 _Arthur's lips were curved into a perfect smirk as he watched Alfred with what could only be described as amusement. "So you think I'm sexy?"_

 _Alfred's mouth fell open. He tried to say '_ no, weren't you listening? I said your self-assurance was sexy, not you' _but couldn't due to the fact that he had been rendered speechless._

" _I suppose it's a common belief so don't feel bad about thinking it."_

 _Wow, this guy was totally overly-confident and up himself and Christ if Alfred didn't find that sexy as hell. "Well," Alfred began, trying to regain some dignity, "there has to be some that would beg to differ, surely? Not everyone can fall for the," Alfred paused as he tried to remember the man's surname, "Kirkland charm now, can they?" It was risky, he knew. But some part of him hoped that Arthur would rise to the challenge, would invite him to test it out, to test_ him _out. But that was wrong, wasn't it? And why did Alfred want this man so badly? It wasn't love: that much he knew. Even a hopeless romantic like Alfred knew that love and lust were two different things but he_ wanted _Arthur and it puzzled him greatly._

" _Is that a challenge, Alfred Jones?" The tantalizing way in which Arthur drawled Alfred's name made Alfred tingle all over. "I am more than able to show you just how…_ Satisfactory _I can be."_

" _And what if you're not?" Alfred asked, all too aware of the situation he was immersing himself in, "satisfactory, I mean."_

" _Well, I've yet to receive any complaints."_

I'll bet you haven't… _Alfred thought as he finished his drink and placed the empty bottle on the table with a resounding thud. Again, Arthur's glass was also empty. "Want another?" Alfred asked, preparing to stand up when a hand grabbed his wrist and he found himself gazing into those vibrant eyes once more._

" _Actually," Arthur began, his voice lower and smoother than it had been before, "I'd rather not. It would only waste time and I can't help but think of all the other,_ better _things I could be doing in its stead," Arthur's expression was questioning and Alfred felt as though the Brit could ask him to do anything and he would do it. "Like you, perhaps."_

 _Well, if that wasn't smooth as fuck._

* * *

They had eaten the fries (well, Alfred had eaten the fries, anyway) and Arthur was in the midst of a rant about the quality of _Doctor Who_ when Alfred saw him. His goddamn psychology professor, who hated Alfred with all his being, was in the same bar as him.

"Oh my god, I don't believe it," Alfred muttered, unable to remove his eyes from the sight of the professor who was out with who Alfred presumed were his friends. Did professors even have social lives?

"What?" Arthur asked, noticing Alfred's alarm and now seemed panicked himself judging by the pitch of his voice which had risen. "What is it?"

"My fucking psychology professor," Alfred groaned, sinking into his seat in the hope that Braginsky wouldn't notice him.

"The one who hates you?" Arthur asked, looking behind him to find the right man, "is he the tall one?"

"Yes- and Arthur quit staring! You're making it obvious," Alfred's warning came too late as the professor had spotted him and was headed his way. "Fuck," Alfred muttered.

"Ah, hello Mister Jones. What a nice pleasure it is to be seeing you here," Braginsky was smiling but Alfred didn't let that fool him. "I missed you in class today, you were sick?"

Alfred scowled. What the hell was he on about? Alfred didn't have any classes on Fridays; he wasn't the type of person who would skip lessons no matter how much he despised his teacher. "We don't have any classes on Fridays, Professor," Alfred said, taking care to keep his voice low.

"No?" Braginsky titled his head to the side. "It must have been another class then, my mistake." His eyes shifted over to Arthur who was finding the surface of the table very interesting. "Ah, hello Arthur. It's nice to be seeing you again."

"Ivan," Arthur nodded before looking away.

To Alfred's relief, _Ivan_ Braginsky walked away and Alfred let out a breath that he was unaware he had been holding. "Ivan?" Alfred asked. "How do you even know him?"

"Ah," Arthur began awkwardly, his hands knotted together. "He's actually my next-door neighbour."

Alfred's eyes widened. Arthur lived in a close-knit neighbourhood where all of the houses were packed together. "Do you think he ever saw us together?"

Arthur shrugged. "It's possible, but I hardly see that it matters. If he ever tried to us that against you, I have loads of dirt on him so he'd regret it."

"Oh my god, _he_ has dirt? Tell me!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "We all have dirt, Alfred." He checked his watch and raised an eyebrow; Alfred supposed that it was getting late. He seemed to lose track of time whenever he was with Arthur. "It's getting kind of late, do you want to leave now?"

Alfred felt his face get hot as he realised, yet again, what was going to happen next. "Sure, I'm ready to go now."

"I bet you are," Arthur said dryly before getting up, "your place, right?"

Alfred nodded. "Yeah." He pulled himself out of his seat and grabbed Arthur's hand, surprising both himself and Arthur. They rarely held hands; that was more of a relationship thing not a casual-sex-with-some-flirting thing. Alfred gave Arthur's hand a light squeeze as they exited the bar and Arthur smiled softly, the corners of his mouth perking up.

Alfred was beginning to regret his decision on telling Arthur how he felt tomorrow. Sure, their arrangement had its flaws but god, was Alfred going to miss it.

He just hoped that it wouldn't come to that. That Arthur would feel the same way too and that his love for the man wasn't unrequited. They climbed into a cab that Arthur had flagged and headed for Alfred's house and it took all of Alfred's strength to not start attacking the Brit with kisses there and then. What if this was the last time they would catch a cab together? Or the last time Arthur would rest his head on Alfred's shoulder?

Alfred shook his head. He wouldn't allow himself to fall into the dark abyss of _what ifs._ He just hoped for the best and wrapped his arms around Arthur a little tighter.

All Alfred had was hope and Arthur and, maybe, that was all he needed.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! :')**

 ** _GUEST REVIEW RESPONSES_**

 _ **To: Yes, Alfred is a dirty ho, but can you really blame him?**_

 _ **Guest (1): Thank you so much and here's more for you! Glad you like it.**_

 ** _Guest (2): Thanks, I really wanted to try some smut that had an essence of plot to it so here it is I guess. :')_**

 **~BooksAreLikeChocolateButBetter**


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N: Just a warning, there will be smut in this chapter. It's my first time writing smut so I hope this'll be okay. Also, I changed the title of this fic to just "The Three Stages" because I preferred it that way :3**

 **Enjoy :')**  
 **~BooksAreLikeChocolateButBetter**

* * *

Chapter Three

 _The taxi ride had been torture. They had sat next to each other, yes, but on opposite sides of the seat as though the other's touch would cause some sort of physical injury. Alfred had begun to question his judgement. Surely it was bad to sleep with a stranger? Even if he was irrefutably attractive and had the sexiest voice he'd heard in a long time. Arthur was purposely avoiding Alfred's eye and Alfred wondered if he knew how he was feeling. He also found himself wanting to know what the Brit thought about the situation. Did he have sex with strangers often? He didn't strike Alfred as the type but then again, what_ was _the type? Not to mention the fact that Alfred had awful observational skills; he'd thought that Arthur was interested in women, for Christ's sake. He wasn't the best judge of character, which only served to make him doubt himself more._

 _The vehicle pulled to a stop and Alfred cleared his throat as he gazed across at Arthur's house. "Uh, should we get out or…?"_

" _Well yes, that is normally what you do when the taxi stops," Arthur said, handing the driver a note, "keep the change."_

 _Alfred took a quick moment to breathe- in, out, in, out- and opened the door. Arthur's house was, as Alfred had expected it to be, absolutely gorgeous. In the middle of a rural-esque street and close to the other houses, it seemed utterly welcoming and Alfred found his previous nerves dissuading a little bit._

 _Arthur headed towards the house and Alfred watched him as he walked. Arthur swayed slightly as he got the door and Alfred was assured by the realisation that Arthur had probably consumed a vast quantity of alcohol meaning that, if everything all went to shit, Arthur probably wouldn't remember._

" _Are you going to just stand there or are you actually capable of movement?" Arthur's voice broke Alfred's thoughts and he looked up to see the Brit's narrowed eyes which accompanied his admonishing tone. Alfred knew that Arthur's blunt way with words should be a turn-off, an annoyance, but he only found himself liking the man even more for his brutal honesty and belittling mannerisms._ What the actual fuck was wrong with him?

" _Oh sure I can move! I mean…" Alfred wanted to bang his head against a brick wall, "yeah, I'm coming." He walked through the threshold and Arthur, not quite smiling but not frowning either, pushed the door closed behind them._

 _It seemed that Arthur always looked at him in a mixture of both bewilderment (how could anybody be so stupid?) and exasperation (how could anybody be so_ damn stupid? _) Arthur probably thought he'd met goldfish that were more conversationally adept than Alfred and, as much as it pained the American to say, he was probably correct in this belief._

* * *

Alfred fumbled with the lock, his hands stiff from the cold and his fingers trembling due to a strange surge of adrenaline which thrummed through his veins on nights like this. Alfred was aware of Arthur standing behind him, of the Brit's warm breath on his neck as he sighed impatiently. Alfred listened to the shifting of his feet and tried to focus on getting the stupid key to fit that _damn_ lock.

"I got it!" he cried, pushing the door open with his shoulder and stepping through the threshold. Arthur followed suit, shutting the door behind him and locking it without thinking; the sight made the pit of Alfred's stomach warm.

Arthur's house always reminded Alfred of a warm breeze on a summer afternoon. Each room, even the kitchen, had some sort of bookshelf covered in dust, the books arranged in authored alphabetical order. Both the living room and the dining room had a fireplace, which Arthur lit on cold, winter Saturday mornings when he knew that Alfred was chilly. Sometimes, if he was in a good mood, he'd make Alfred a mug of hot chocolate. Naturally, it tasted like sugary tar but Alfred made sure he drank the whole cup because it had been made out of consideration and affection and because Arthur had made it for him. He was sure that he'd drink a mug of lumpy gravy if Arthur presented it to him with a half-smile and eyes that were made of honey and sweetness when they looked at him in the mornings, all fond and dewy. Each room was both immaculate and messy and Alfred knew that the Brit treated his house with the upmost care and affection; it was a stationary part of him. If Alfred could believe in souls, he would have said that Arthur's house had managed to clone the Brit's and turn it into something warm and friendly- welcoming.

Alfred's house, on the other hand, was just a place where Alfred slept, ate and played XBOX. It was a literal mess and Alfred was sure that all Arthur wanted to do was wait until Alfred was asleep and clean the whole place from top to bottom. In fact, Arthur had already tried this: Alfred had slept in one Saturday morning and he had gone downstairs to find Arthur rearranging his kitchen cupboards, throwing out anything ridiculously unhealthy or past its sell-by date. After that, Alfred had found himself with no food and an emergency trip to Wal-Mart was required followed by a subsequent outing to McDonalds where Arthur, the self-proclaimed healthy-eating fanatic, refused to eat anything. Alfred's house was a mess but it was a liveable mess; you could see the carpets.

Alfred shrugged off his jacket and placed it on the hooks by the door, Arthur did the same. They stood in the hallway, allowing the awkward moment to pass. At first, there was always a mixture of anticipation and hesitation, the feeling before jumping off a cliff into the cool, blue sea. Then they would come together, collapsing into their insatiable need, their mouths hungry for the taste of the other's lips. Arthur pushed Alfred against the wall and Alfred shoved all of his insecurities to the back of his mind, allowing himself this moment, this loss of control to physicality, until there was only Alfred and Arthur, the world a simple backdrop against the scene taking place. Arthur began to unbutton Alfred's shirt, his pianist-like fingers gentle against Alfred's skin. Arthur kissed Alfred's neck as he slipped Alfred's now unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Alfred ran a hand through Arthur's wheat-like hair, finding himself wondering what type of conditioner the man used as it was so damn _soft_ , but realising that it would probably be an abrupt mood-killer if he asked and Arthur seemed to be most certainly in the mood. Alfred pulled Arthur's awful knitted sweater over his hand, thank God, and trailed his hands along the Brit's torso. Arthur was so slender that he was all angles and bone but he held a sense of finesse, like each angle was crafted to the perfect degree. Alfred could allow himself to wallow in jealousy if he wanted to. He was a combination of curves and muscles which, according to Arthur, was totally hot so he didn't need to worry. Yet, in comparison to Arthur, he could be made to feel inferior. Alfred knew he couldn't compare himself to Arthur. How could you think to compare chalk and cheese, sun and rain? It was sacrilegious and Alfred just wanted to lose himself in the feelings that Arthur managed to drag out of him, in the excitement that filled his body, making him realise that he was a living, feeling body and very much _alive._

"Alfred," Arthur's voice was a husky whisper in the dim light, pulling Alfred from his thoughts. "We should probably take this upstairs now." Arthur's eyes were practically glowing, his cheeks were flushed and Alfred's eyes quickly flitted to Arthur's bulge in his pants which was considerably larger than what it had been before.

Alfred pressed his lips to Arthur's giving him a quick, no-frills kiss before pulling away. "Sure," he said breathily, more breathily than he meant to, causing Arthur to raise his eyebrows. "I'll show you the way."

Arthur smirked and his smirk was both terrifying and undeniably attractive. It was like he knew every one of the American government's secrets and was willing to tell you for a pint of your finest beer. It was _that_ type of smirk. "You know," as he spoke the words seemed to travel down Alfred's skin, imprinting themselves on his body, "I'm pretty sure that I already know the way."

He winked, _winked_ , and sauntered up the stairs leaving Alfred, topless and amazed, trying to pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with a smug gorgeous Brit named Arthur Kirkland.

* * *

" _Are you going to take your clothes off too, or are you just going to stand there staring at me? Because you're kind of freaking me out." Upon entering the house, they had somehow ended up in Arthur's bedroom and this had somehow (Alfred was really not in the mood to question his morals) led to the pair making out which had again somehow (God, he was such a man-whore) led to Alfred being topless and lying on Arthur's bed. This was as far as they had got as Arthur had become speechless and, apparently, motionless. He had been straddling the American, and had pulled Alfred's shirt over his head._

" _I'm sorry," Arthur said, finally snapping back to life and Alfred became awash with relief, "I was just a little distracted, that's all."_

" _Yeah?" Alfred tried to whisper but he felt as though he were speaking through a megaphone, everything was so much louder when they were so close together. "By what?"_

" _Well…" Arthur seemed embarrassed, his gaze focused on his crisp, white bed sheets instead of the man who was lying beneath him. "I just think you should know that you're the most gorgeous person I've ever clasped eyes on."_

 _Alfred could feel heat run throughout him, surging through his veins. Instinct told him that Arthur was lying, that he was mocking him but he knew it wasn't so; he was so sincere. "I, uh… Thank you?" Alfred should have said something mutual like "yeah, you're not so bad yourself" or ironic like "I bet you say that to all the strangers you have sex with" but he couldn't bring himself to do it._

 _Arthur smiled. It was a proper smile that seemed to light-up his entire face, and Alfred smiled back. He pulled the Brit down by his shirt and kissed him deeply, running his hands underneath Arthur's shirt, over his smooth skin. Once Arthur pulled away, Alfred pulled the man's shirt up and saw that Arthur was beautiful, like something intricately carved. He had freckles all over his chest, which were really cute and his skin was incredibly pale under his clothes, like a vampire's._

 _They locked eyes and a silent agreement passed through their look. Arthur reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. "Have you done this before?"_

" _Yes. Have you?" Alfred asked, already aware of the answer._

" _Of course," Arthur replied, his steady fingers beginning to undo Alfred's belt buckle. "Don't worry," Arthur's usual mirth had returned and his smirk was all that Alfred could see in the dimness, "I'll make this a night you won't forget."_

 _Alfred was a sucker for a British accent._

* * *

"I want to top tonight. Is that okay with you?" Alfred wanted to pretend to think about it, but he loved it when Arthur topped and was pretty sure that his delight had shown on his face.

"That's fine by me," was all he said as took off his glasses, placing them on the nightstand and climbing onto his bed, lying back onto the pillows.

Arthur chuckled, before joining the American, climbing on top of him. "I'm sure it is."

Arthur kissed Alfred on the lips once more before kissing Alfred's body. Arthur started at Alfred's neck then continued downwards, leaving a trail of kisses, scattering them all over Alfred. Occasionally, Arthur would focus on a particular spot, sucking on Alfred's skin eliciting gasps and moans from Alfred.

Arthur's wondrous mouth had now reached the top of Alfred's pants and Alfred fought the need to arch his back and thrust his hips upward, not wanting to seem as desperate as he was. "Mm," Arthur hummed, looking at the bulge in Alfred's pants, "somebody's happy to see me."

"Shu-shut up," Alfred replied weakly, "just get on with it."

Arthur raised his eyebrows but made no further comment as he slowly, _painstakingly slowly_ , undid the buckle and the zipper on Alfred's pants freeing him from his tight restraints as Alfred kicked them off. He pulled Alfred's boxers down too and Alfred made sure that they weren't stuck around his ankles. He hated it when that happened.

Arthur kissed Alfred's thighs and naval area; his lips seemed to touch everything apart from the one thing Alfred so wanted them to touch. He knew that Arthur was teasing him, waiting for him to ask. Well, Alfred would gladly give him what he wanted.

"Arthur, d-don't do that," Arthur stopped kissing and looked up, blinking those oh-so-innocent eyes at Alfred, "don't tease. Just do."

"Do what?" Arthur's voice was silk and dancing and Alfred wanted to listen to nothing else. "What do you want me to do? Say it."

Alfred could feel his face heat up at having to ask. "Suck me." When Arthur didn't do anything, Alfred found himself pleading, "God _please_."

Arthur smirked but said nothing more as he lowered his mouth onto Alfred's cock. Alfred gasped as he felt the warmth of Arthur's mouth and, as Arthur went further, he found himself twisting Arthur's hair through his fingers trying to suppress the urge to encourage the Brit to go deeper. Arthur dragged his tongue up the base of Alfred's cock, swirling around the tip and the head causing Alfred to bite back a moan. _God._ He then began to suck. Arthur's tongue lay pressed against the underside of Alfred's shaft and his lips seemed to cover the cock in its entirety as Arthur's mouth worked hard and fast making Alfred feel as though he were in a blissful heaven. Alfred could feel Arthur's nails digging into his thigh as the other hand stroked Alfred, his wrist twisting different ways.

"C-Christ Arthur," Alfred allowed himself to moan, his back arched and hands were tightly grasping the bed sheets, "that feels so damn good."

"Mm," Arthur hummed, continuing his ministrations. His eyes were closed and Alfred wished wholeheartedly, for some inexplicable reason, that Arthur would _look_ at him as though that would solve everything and Alfred could fool himself into believing that Arthur truly loved him and that this wouldn't be their last time together.

Arthur's eyes did open when he heard Alfred moan significantly louder than he previously been. "I'm gonna-I'm gonna co-,"

Arthur quickly exerted his mouth from Alfred's rigid cock which was now wet from his saliva. "Not yet," Arthur whispered, removing his own pants and boxers. He spread lube on his fingers and, making sure it was warm and evenly spread, he placed a finger at Alfred's entrance and slipped a finger inside him. Alfred took deep breaths (no matter how many times they'd done this, it still hurt) and waited for Arthur to insert a second and third finger.

"Mmph," Alfred shifted, uncomfortable.

"Sorry," Arthur was now thrusting his fingers, all three of them, deep inside Alfred, "this won't take long, I promise."

"Uh-huh, "Alfred gasped as Arthur's teeth tugged at his earlobe, the Brit trying earnestly to counteract Alfred's discomfort. Arthur's fingers finally found Alfred's prostate and Alfred began to moan as Arthur rubbed his fingers against the cluster of nerves. "Oh fuck. Fucking fuck, _yes_."

Alfred's hips bucked upwards but Arthur just continued playing with his prostate. Alfred's moans and gasps were practically incoherent mumblings as Arthur continuously managed to fill Alfred with pleasure.

Arthur removed his fingers, causing Alfred to release a whimper. "Don't worry," Arthur purred, "you'll be receiving twice as much very soon. We're about to start the main event, love." As Alfred looked at Arthur, who was currently coating his dick in lube (they didn't bother with condoms anymore), he tried to imagine what living with him would be like; what it would be like to be able to do this together _every night._ He couldn't imagine anything more perfect than that.

"Are you okay?" Arthur's concerned voice broke Alfred's reverie. "You seemed a bit out of it."

Alfred flashed him what he hoped was a dazzling, convincing smile. "I'm great! Don't worry."

Arthur, seemingly reassured by this, positioned himself. "Are you ready?"

Alfred nodded and Arthur eased himself into Alfred. Alfred let out a whine, arching his back completely, his jaw going slack. Arthur's hips began to rock as he thrust deeply inside Alfred who tried, fervently, to create some kind of synchronisation, some rhythm but he knew he was failing, he always did. Alfred gave himself up to Arthur entirely; he clawed at Arthur's back with every hard thrust and kissed at any part of skin which came in reaching distance to his mouth. During sex, Alfred found it hard not to notice how beautiful Arthur truly was; the man practically glowed. His eyes, usually dark and unrevealing were open, honest and aflame. Arthur's skin was coated in sheens of sweat, as was Alfred's, and every angle seemed more protruded, every dip more prominent.

"G-god Alfred," Arthur's voice was wanton, desperate and had lost all of its usual articulacy and God if that wasn't sexy as hell because Alfred was the one making that happen. "You're so fucking- ahhh." Alfred didn't get to find out what he was as he had ground his hips into Arthur's who was now moaning into the crook of Alfred's neck.

Arthur began to quicken the pace, evidently nearing his climax and wanting Alfred to join him. This surprised Alfred as he was usually the one arriving first. Their previous attempt at synchronisation was lost and the quest for rhythm was abandoned as their hips collided over and over and every one of Arthur's powerful thrusts was followed by moans, gasps and dirty talk which seemed to die at their lips.

"Fuck, Arthur. I'm gonna- gonna come, ahhh," Alfred cried out and then the Earth stopped spinning and Alfred was made of electricity which seeped from him, releasing itself onto his previously clean sheets. He was both so aware and so damn unaware of everything at the same time. He could feel Arthur's warm breath on his neck and the way Arthur's thigh muscles contracted and relaxed with every thrust but all of this was overpowered with the feeling of breathlessness and bliss, a feeling only accessible in Arthur's presence.

"A-Alfred," Arthur's breath hitched as he pushed himself further into Alfred, "Jesus, fuck, I-I love you, _fucking hell_." He then came hard inside Alfred, his body tense and shuddering as he rode out his orgasm.

Alfred, however, was no longer feeling blissful and breathless. He was no longer looking at Arthur as though he were the most beautiful person in the world. He was very, very confused, bewildered, puzzled. He'd even go as far to say that he was discombobulated (one of his favourite words because it sounded funny when you said it out loud). Arthur couldn't love him. No, that wasn't right- Arthur _could_ love him, but Alfred wasn't supposed to know about it until tomorrow when he told Arthur how he truly felt and that their Friday night arrangement could no longer work. Now just wasn't right. Why would Arthur say that _now_ , during sex of all times? Alfred suspected it was just one of those heat-in-the-moment things but that only worsened matters as it meant that Arthur might not love him at all, he could have just declared it without thinking it through. Why were feelings so damn confusing? Alfred should have become a monk.

"Alfred? Are you okay?" Arthur had climbed off Alfred and was wearing one of Alfred's T-Shirts he had left lying on the floor; their shirts were still downstairs discarded on the hallway floor.

"I'm fine. It's just…" Alfred trailed off, unsure of what to say, of what to do.

"Did you not enjoy the sex?" Arthur's voice was concerned and his eyes were narrowed, trying to read Alfred's thoughts, his feelings. Alfred hoped he couldn't smell the fear that seemed so palpable these days: the fear of losing him.

"The sex was great, Arthur." Alfred pulled on another shirt from the floor (he should really put those away) and retrieved his underpants. He switched the bedside lamps off, cloaking the room in darkness. He then got under his comforter and Arthur followed suit. They both lay on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, unsaid words buzzing between them like an electric current.

"You said you loved me," he spoke to the ceiling, not letting Arthur see the hope in his eyes. The pathetic hope which was suffocating Alfred.

"I know."

"Did you mean it?"

"Yes," Arthur's voice was a star in the blackness and it seemed to shine more brightly than ever in that one word, "Alfred, I'm bloody fed-up of this. All this repetitious one-night stands and sex with no strings attached. I want the strings attached, Alfred. " It was getting difficult for them to talk so seriously without looking at one another so they turned on their sides, facing each other as they both searched for something they never knew was there.

"You do?" Alfred could barely breathe and was finding it hard to speak using multisyllabic vocabulary. He felt as though he'd won the lottery and been elected President in the same day. "But, I thought you didn't want a relationship? That they were too much effort, too much unnecessary hassle."

"Everyone wants a relationship, Alfred. They just need the right person and," Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes, "I can't believe I'm saying this but, by God, I think I've found him in you."

"Move in with me." The words came out of his mouth before he'd even thought about it and Arthur's sudden stiffness told Alfred that he had made a mistake.

"I couldn't leave my house," was all Arthur said and Alfred knew that he was just trying to be nice, that he didn't want to live with Alfred just yet and that was all right. "It does, however, have enough room for two. If you wanted to?"

It was happening. It was really happening. They were going to be in an official relationship and live together and Alfred was going to finally be so happy and maybe Matthew, his brother, would visit them and see how happy Alfred was and it would be perfect.

"Are you actually serious? Ohmygod, Arthur! I would absolutely love to! I'll be the best boyfriend you've ever had, I promise and I won't leave my clothes on the floor and I'll help organise your kitchen cupboards," Arthur looked at Alfred dubiously, probably remembering the disgrace that was Alfred's kitchen, "and we'll get to have sex every single night. Ah, it'll be great."

Arthur chuckled and rolled his eyes affectionately. "Okay, but before all that, we need to get some sleep. I, for one, am absolutely shattered and moving house is tiresome work."

"Okay." Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur, nuzzling his face into the man's shoulder. He was warm, contended, both loved and loving.

Arthur exhaled deeply and Alfred could feel the tiredness running through him. "Goodnight, Alfred."

"'Night Arthur," he closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to come. "Ohmygod Arthur!"

Immediately, Arthur stiffened and his eyes flew open. "What? What's wrong?"

"I didn't tell you I love you!" Alfred kissed Arthur on the cheek, three times as he felt bad. "I do, y'know, I really love you."

He felt Arthur smile and felt better. "That's lovely Alfred, I'm glad to hear it. Please go to sleep now."

"Okay, goodnight."

"Goodnight."

* * *

 **A/N: And that's pretty much the main story. Ah, I'm a sucker for a happy ending.**

 **There will be an epilogue, of course.**

 **Thanks for reading :')**  
 **~BooksAreLikeChocolateButBetter**


	4. Epilogue

Epilogue

"So yeah, Artie and I are officially a thing now."

"Artie?"

"It's my nickname for him. He says he hates it but I'm sure it'll grow on him in no time."

Alfred was once again in his second favourite place of all time (the first being Arthur's and now his, he had to keep reminding himself, house), _Coffee on the Corner_ , and it wasn't even a Friday. As soon as Alfred had moved all of his stuff into Arthur's house, he'd felt the need to talk to Elizaveta so that he could tell her the news she'd wanted to hear for so long. It was Monday; Alfred had waited two whole days. Moving house had turned out to be both longer and busier than he had remembered.

She leant over the counter and gave him a hug. In Alfred's opinion, it was less like hugging and more like crushing. _Damn, she gave tight hugs_. She was practically squeezing the life out of him. "It's about damn time! You've been in love with him for, like, how long exactly?"

"Five months, three weeks and one day," Gilbert answered, emerging from the kitchen, a tea towel wrapped around his neck, "you kind of bitch about it a lot when I'm off-duty."

"Gilbert!" Elizaveta hissed, swiping the smirking man round the back of the head, " _no swearing whilst working."_

"Okay, okay." Gilbert rubbed at his head and winked at Alfred. " _Girls_ ," he mouthed, causing Alfred to smile in sympathy.

"I saw that," Elizaveta said as she poured herself a coffee. The shop was empty so Alfred was allowed to just sit at the counter and chat to Elizaveta whilst she powered herself with an endless supply of caffeine. Alfred supposed that talking to him must be exhausting.

"Of course you did," Gilbert replied as he retreated into the kitchen.

She shook her head as she placed her coffee on the counter. Taking a seat on the wooden stool near the till, she leaned forward, her eyes wide and intrigued. "So," she smirked a little and took a sip of her coffee, "where's James Bond?"

"Firstly, don't call him that. It's weird." Alfred personally thought Arthur was more like the Doctor than the British spy. "He's working on his book. We moved all of my stuff into his place on Saturday and he hasn't gotten much work done since I've been around."

Elizaveta waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "I'll bet he hasn't."

"Liz!" Alfred's cheeks turned warm and pink which made little sense seeing as both Elizaveta and Gilbert knew all about their friends-with-benefits arrangement. "How dare you suggest such a thing?"

"Hmnm." She sipped more of her coffee and, once she'd placed her cup down on the counter, began tapping her fingers on the table. Alfred supposed that she was becoming restless and that hardly surprised him, she'd had a _lot_ of coffee. "I can't really blame you though," she sighed wistfully, "if he wasn't gay and I wasn't with Gilbert then I'd totally screw him."

"Thanks for that Liz," Alfred muttered, then it was his turn to smirk as he said, "I assume Gil isn't a satisfying partner, then, huh?"

"I'm a fucking _fantastic_ partner, thank you very much!" A voice yelled from the kitchen, causing Alfred to jump in surprise. Gilbert either had really good hearing or had been purposefully eavesdropping. "An awesome partner in fact, right Liz?"

Elizaveta's cheeks had gone a shade of pink and she chewed her lip before sighing, "I have to admit it, he is." Her eyes then widened and she leaned forward to whisper, "actually, the other day it was _so good_. He-"

"Ah and _that's_ my cue to leave," Alfred said hastily as he downed the rest of his coffee and gathered up his things, repressing a shudder. If he hadn't interrupted Elizaveta, he would have been mentally scarred for life.

Elizaveta pouted before smirking once more. "Oh and why is that I wonder? Is Arthur taking a work break?"

"You literally have sex on the brain, Liz. It's worrying."

"It's great!" Gilbert shouted from the kitchen and Alfred was now certain the Gilbert had superhuman hearing; he was going to have to write to Marvel.

Alfred thanked his friend for the coffee (she had given it to him for free in exchange for the information as to why he was so happy), said goodbye and headed for the door.

He was just about to leave when something caught his eye. It was the quotes wall. It was telling him that he _had_ to write something and he knew that he wouldn't be able to leave without doing so. But what would he write? Something about Arthur, surely.

 _His massive eyebrows are massive?_

 _His voice is like dancing?_

 _He looks super sexy without clothes on?_

 _Well it's a good job that Arthur's the writer,_ Alfred thought as he moved aside to let a customer through the door. He took a step forward so that he was out of the way (the place had suddenly gotten a whole lot busier as it was the evening rush hour) and so that he could view the wall more closely.

It was covered in lovely inspirational quotes: _"_ _The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart"- Helen Keller_ ; _"Try to be a rainbow in someone's cloud."- Mary Angelou_ and Alfred's personal favourite, _"Sometimes,' said Pooh, 'the smallest things take up the most room in your heart"- A.A Milne._ Alfred loved these quotes yes, but that wasn't what he wanted to write, what he _needed_ to write.

It had to be personal.

* * *

 _Arthur was over twenty minutes late, which was not like him. Alfred was both worried and sad as he believed Arthur wouldn't turn up, which_ was _like him, but not to this extent. Arthur usually turned up within two minutes of Alfred's waiting._

 _Alfred would have to order Arthur another drink as he was sure that it would get cold and cold tea, as Arthur had told him once before, was a 'crime against humanity'._

 _The bell tinkled and Alfred's head shot up, hoping against hope that it would be Arthur._

 _It was. But Arthur did not look like Arthur. He was decked head to toe in black, not one buttoned shirt or knitted sweater in sight. He wore a tight T-shirt and even tighter skinny jeans. He was wearing a leather jacket and Alfred was pretty sure that he was wearing eyeliner._

 _Arthur stomped over in his Doc Martens and slumped in the chair, glaring at Alfred intensely. His arms were folded and he huffed before saying, "don't you dare comment on my outfit. Don't ask me where I got it from, why I had it in the first place or why I'm wearing it today. Just don't."_

 _Alfred opened his mouth and, after receiving another death-glare from Arthur, closed it again. If looks could kill, Alfred would have been dead._

 _Arthur sighed before taking a sip of his tea and grimacing. "It's cold." He placed it back down and studied Alfred for a few moments. Alfred was still too stunned to speak. He had so many questions he wanted to ask but he was sure Arthur would kill him if he uttered a single word. "You know what, fuck it, just ask me some bloody questions." Well, at least he didn't have to wait for very long._

" _Phew, okay, uhm…"_ Where would he start? _"Who made you dress like that? I mean, it's not exactly your usual style."_

" _My usual style being those ugly jumpers you hate so much, I suppose?" Alfred nodded. "I thought so. I've told you about Francis, haven't I?" Alfred nodded again. "Well unfortunately I made the stupid mistake of telling him I was on a date tonight and he wanted me to make my best efforts. He searched my wardrobe and said that this outfit, in particular, was 'sexy' and he would not leave my house unless I dress like this to meet you which is why I'm twenty minutes late. Apologies for that, by the way."_

" _Aw, that's okay," Alfred replied in a hopefully nonchalant voice as he pretended that he hadn't spent twenty minutes in a major stress. "Francis was right though. You_ do _look sexy. The punk thing works for you."_

 _Arthur's face turned crimson as he spluttered, embarrassed at being complimented. Alfred rescued him by asking whether he wanted another drink to which Arthur replied in the positive and the American walked to the counter._

" _Can I have a tea and a black coffee please, Liz?" Alfred reached into his wallet and placed ten dollars on the counter, "you can keep the change."_

 _Elizaveta smiled and prepared their drinks. "Someone's looking very fine," she said, nodding in Arthur's direction._

" _I know right?" Alfred groaned, "God, talk about radiating sexy. It's unfair."_

" _If it makes you feel any better, I'm jealous," Liz replied, placing the two drinks on the counter._

" _It does," Alfred admitted as he picked up the beverages, "I'm the luckiest guy alive. Cheers for the drinks, Liz." Alfred carried them over to their table and set them down (without actually spilling any, an achievement for Alfred) he then sat in his seat opposite Arthur._

" _Thank you," Arthur took a sip of his drink before setting it down on the table. "Ah, lovely. Elizaveta does make the greatest tea."_

" _She thinks you look good in that outfit too, by the way."_

 _Arthur's cheeks pinked a little yet he smiled. Alfred had the feeling Arthur was feeling very self-conscious in that outfit which was ridiculous, he looked_ amazing _, and Alfred would be sure to remind Arthur of that later._

" _Alfred," Alfred looked up from his coffee (which he had been staring into as he thought about Arthur and his confidence) and Arthur took this as his cue to continue. "Are you a believer in astrology?"_

 _The question kind of stunned Alfred though it really shouldn't have. Arthur was a fan of unexpected questions on random topics. "Isn't that the one with the star signs?" Arthur nodded slowly, his eyes trained on Alfred's expression. "Nah, not really. I mean, I guess the concept's nice but I don't think there's any truth to it. Do you?"_

 _Arthur shuffled in his seat and looked away from Alfred before answering. "As a matter of fact, I do. My mother is a big follower of astrology and I kind of picked it up from her." His embarrassment seemed to have subsided as he was now able to make eye contact with Alfred once more. "I remembered something interesting today though which I think will interest you too," he paused as he drank some of his tea, "Alfred, do you know your star sign?"_

" _I was born on July 4_ _th_ _so that would make me a Cancer, right?"_

" _I had thought as much and yes, that's right. I was born on the 23_ _rd_ _of April and that makes me a Taurus. Do you want to know what's interesting about that?"_

 _Alfred had no idea where this was going but nodded anyway, just to keep Arthur happy._

" _Cancer and Taurus are highly compatible signs," Arthur appeared very excited about this new discovery. His eyes were wide and passionate, he was using hand gestures and he was smiling, "do you know what that means?"_

" _Uh…" Alfred tried to think but astrology just went way over his head, it was confusing and totally made-up anyway, none of it was real. "Nope, no idea. Sorry."_

 _Arthur rolled his eyes. "It means that_ we're _compatible Alfred. We're well-suited for each other, made to be. See, I think that what's happening between us right now, our arrangement, was fated. It was supposed to happen. It was all too big of a coincidence, surely."_

 _Alfred loved astrology. Astrology was his favourite thing in the entire world and everyone knew that it was a reliable and honest practice. What better place to find truth than in the stars? Alfred would read his horoscope every week. Astrology said that he and Arthur were meant to be. They were compatible._

" _I like your discovery," Alfred said (a gross understatement)._

" _Yes. So do I."_

* * *

In the end, it was obvious what Alfred had to write. Three simple words which had changed Alfred's way of thinking and had made him realise how much Arthur had meant to him. Three words which showed that they were made for one another.

Alfred walked back to the counter and, after queuing for five minutes, he placed three dollars on the counter and said to Elizaveta, "I know what I'm going to write on the wall."

She simply smiled and said, "It took me to fall in love before I knew what to write too." Before Alfred could ask what she meant by that or what she wrote on the wall, she was serving another customer.

Alfred grabbed the marker pen from the counter and, making sure he didn't bump into anyone holding hot drinks, he walked to the wall. It felt smooth underneath the pen, it was the same satisfying feeling a person gets when they write in a new notebook for the first time. Once he was done, he took a step back and admired his work.

" _We are compatible"- Arthur Kirkland._

He placed the pen back on the counter, took a final glance at the wall and left. He was heading for home and, when he got there, he was going to tell Arthur that he loved him (which Arthur already knew, of course), he was going to cook them some food and then they would fall asleep in each other's arms watching _Spiderman_ and it would be amazing.

Fridays were no longer the best day of the week because now, with Arthur, every day was perfect.

* * *

 **A/N: So, that's another fic finished! Sorry the wait for the epilogue was so long. I've had a lot of work to do D:**

 **Thanks for reading, I hope you all liked the ending :') (I'm a sucker for a happy ending :3)**

 **~BooksAreLikeChocolateButBetter**


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